


One Call Says it All

by seashadows



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Canon Het Relationship, F/M, Originally Posted on LiveJournal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-05
Updated: 2013-05-05
Packaged: 2017-12-10 11:54:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/785777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seashadows/pseuds/seashadows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nyota and Spock receive a comm from their daughter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Call Says it All

It’s 0500 and, for the third time this week, a beep from Nyota’s PADD indicates that she has an incoming call. “She’s reporting for duty as usual,” she says with a smile, and turns to Spock. “Do you want to take it this time, or do you want me to?”   
  
“As you took charge of her last call, it is only logical that I do so this time,” Spock replies, full of words as usual, and takes the PADD that Nyota offers to him, switching the video function on with a quick flick of his thumb. Nyota cuddles in closer to look over his shoulder as their daughter’s smiling face comes into view.   
  
“Hey, Mom!” Tamara says, blowing a kiss, then switches to Vulcan to greet her dad. “ _Tonk’peh, Osa-mekh_ ,” she adds, conceding with the respectful prefix even though she uses the informal address. “What’s up?”   
  
“Little change of note has occurred since you last called,” Spock says. “One of the main water heaters ceased to function and Commander Scott has worked for seven point six five hours to rectify the problem.”   
  
“Yeah?” She raises an eyebrow in an expression that’s the twin of Spock’s. “I bet it was Keenser’s fault somehow, am I right or am I right?”   
  
“Your logic is sound,” Spock says with a slight nod, and Tam giggles a little, running a hand through her head of what Nyota likes to call ‘riot curls’ – dark strands halfway between curls and waves that she keeps chopped to her chin and pulls on all day. Right now, they’re standing out in a curly storm that indicates either that Tam called in the middle of some deep thoughts or she’s been yelling at someone today – given her temper, probably both.   
  
“So what’s been going on with you, _mpendwa?_ ” Nyota asks. Their daughter is on Earth for the summer, studying creative writing and genetics (“seriously, I have to keep my options open!”), and at sixteen, she loves to talk almost as much as she loves to write. As usual, her smile grows even more, a sure sign of a tale, and Nyota hides her own smile as she sits back to listen.   
  
“Well, we were talking about nature versus nurture yesterday in genetics class,” she begins, “and Vince Tharin went and said he thought parental genetics could influence changeable behavior, like the way Vulcans talk, and so I turned around and said what was the matter with him, genetics have nothing to do with speech patterns. And then I said I’m a quarter Vulcan and I don’t speak anything like the way Dad does – sorry, Dad, no offense, but it’s true – and I use contractions and idioms just like any other native Standard speaker. And he made a face at me and said I can’t possibly be a quarter Vulcan because my butt is too fat.”   
  
Nyota’s eyebrows go up at that. If there’s one thing her daughter is sensitive about, it’s her curves. Spock is stick-thin and Nyota still fits a B-cup, even after nursing, but uniform shirts are tight across Tam’s front and she always has to either take her pants in at the waist or let them out at the rear. Spock says it comes from his mother’s side of the family and there is a great deal of variation in Vulcan body size as well, but McCoy just rolls his eyes whenever Nyota brings it up and says to leave the damn kid alone. “So what did you tell him?”   
  
Tam grins. “I said that if he didn’t know the difference between curvy and overweight, he’ll never be able to find a girlfriend and good luck with that anyway, because it looks like _his_ genes just code for oily skin. He’s kind of a _guv-tvi-rivakan_ zitface.”   
  
“Language, Tamara,” Spock reminds her sternly, and Nyota elbows him. This is no time to interrupt, not if he doesn’t want the silent treatment next time Tam calls; her temper is more than a match for his. “It is inaccurate to describe him with a gerund pertaining to fornication when you stated previously that he is romantically unattached.”   
  
“Oh, _Sa-mekh_ , stop being such a literalist.” Tam furrows her thick brows at him and playfully wrinkles her nose, emphasizing its hawklike shape. She may resemble Nyota in the warm olive-syrup tone of her skin and in her curls, but her face unmistakably comes from Spock. “I just mean that he’s a jerk and you know it. Anyway, he made a fuss when I said that, but Professor V’nar told us both to knock it off and make with the productive discussion already.”   
  
“A logical course of action.” Spock nods again. “Is your writing proceeding in a satisfactory manner?”   
  
“Yup. I wrote some new poems this week.” Her smile is instantly recognizable as that of someone who’s triumphed over persistent writer’s block; Nyota has seen it countless times over the past eleven years or so, ever since Tam first stole her father’s PADD to write barely-legible stories about Keenser and the big red bean. “The one about watching the stars from the observation deck is a little cliché, but hey, at least I got some writing done. Want I should send them over?”   
  
“We’d love to read them,” Nyota answers. “I’ll even bring them down to sickbay if you want me to.”   
  
“Sweet mother of sandwiches!” Tam’s face lights up. “I was just going to ask you for the link to Uncle Len’s PADD anyway, so great timing, Mom!”   
  
Spock blinks at the ‘sweet mother of sandwiches’ bit, but he doesn’t say anything; Nyota figures that by now, he’s worked out that it’s useless to try to keep Tam from using Scotty’s strange exclamations of joy, and resistance is futile. “I am sure,” he says, “that the doctor will be pleased to have a new sample of your writing.”   
  
“You can stop calling him ‘the doctor’ any time, Dad,” Tam says, rolling her eyes. “He has a name and it’s Leonard.”   
  
“I am aware that his name is Leonard,” Spock says in an identical tone. “I prefer not to refer to him as such.”   
  
“Fine, be like that.” But Tam’s smiling again, even as she lays a Vulcan-bony hand – “rolled out with a rolling pin and made too skinny at the edges,” she likes to say - over her stomach. “Yikes. Okay, my stomach’s making some evil noises, so I gotta go get dinner, all right? I’ll talk to you guys later.”   
  
“Okay, _mpendwa_ ,” Nyota says. She presses her fingers against her lips and then against the screen of her PADD, a virtual kiss. “ _Nakupenda_.”   
  
“ _Nakupenda_ , Mom,” Tam says, and copies the kiss. “ _Ashau tu_ , Dad.” She holds up her fingers in the _ta’al_ , and Spock nods, doing the same.   
  
“ _Ashau tu, tal-kam_ ,” he says softly, a rare display of affection reserved for Tamara and Nyota alone, and the screen goes dark.


End file.
